


the moments after, and all that come next

by allthatsleftbehind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthatsleftbehind/pseuds/allthatsleftbehind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Regina hadn’t expected any of this - not to feel so helpless, so hopelessly lost, and she certainly hadn’t expected Emma’s sacrifice for her. <em>Entirely</em> for her. It's ironic, really. One minute Emma was there and it seemed as though everyone’s happy endings might survive intact, and then in a flash, the darkness was enveloping her and Regina was screaming “NO!”, her voice ragged with desperation to just keep Emma safe, to keep her HERE, where she belonged, with Henry and the people who love her. The same thing that made Emma do what she did. Emma was trying to protect her, to preserve her among all others, and the gravity of the gesture was overwhelming. Regina hadn’t expected to feel such devastating guilt. She also hadn't expected to miss her so fucking much.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. stuck

The entire street, wide open in the chill of late night, has gone silent after the rush and roar of the Darkness - silent, that is, but for the harsh clinking of weighted steel as it falls to the pavement unattended, Emma’s name inscribed on the jagged silver face of the blade. It’s deafening, final, and no one dares move, afraid of being the first to react in any way. If they all stand there, frozen in time, then maybe it means none of this is real, that the Darkness hasn’t swallowed Emma, that the worst hasn’t actually happened. And yet, it most certainly has. 

Regina gasps, choking, the lack of air entering her lungs threatening to strangle the life right out of her. This can’t be how it all ends, it can’t. She swallows a sob, the glint of the dagger catching the moonlight and hitting her peripheral vision, no matter how hard she tries to look away. She can’t breathe. She pushes away from Robin and moves forward, into the empty air where Emma stood just seconds before, their eyes locked like magnets. Before she can stop herself, Regina's knees give out, dropping her to the asphalt, devoid of balance. 

It’s enough to snap the world around them into action. Robin rushes to Regina’s side, though she manages to lift her arm in protest before he can touch her, causing him to pause helplessly in his tracks. Of all emotions, she has known fear once or twice, vulnerability a few times more. But this is new. Her eyes, still wide and unbelieving, unleash tears in quick succession, frantic droplets that are beyond her control. She is alone, so completely alone in this, and she is terrified. 

Somewhere in the distance, she hears Mary Margaret calling her name, her voice full of confusion and pain. Regina is filled with panic, dread, an absolute sense of loss unlike any she’s felt in a long time - perhaps unlike any she’s ever felt. Emma had absorbed every last ounce of darkness within herself in order to save Regina, but Regina doesn’t feel saved. She feels shell-shocked and powerless, the desperation coursing through her veins like fire, threatening to burn her inside out. 

_Emma_. The look in her eyes as Regina stared through the black smoke that swirled around her held so many unspoken words that she could read effortlessly, perfectly, despite everything. Emma, full of light, the only one Regina trusted implicitly as if her life depended on it, as it often did; the only one who had reached through the Darkness to find her goodness within and restore her. The one who understood her beyond all reason, who had given her grace when she deserved it least. And now she’s gone, swallowed into a great unknown even Regina cannot fathom. The thought crushes her and makes her dizzy, her consciousness blurred. 

Regina reaches for the dagger. There is no transfer of power as her palm wraps around the smooth leather handle, no spark of recognition from the universe that evil existed and prevailed, despite their best efforts. Snow is calling her name again but she’s mesmerized, in a trance, studying the curved indent of Emma’s name upon the blade. Regina says her name mentally once, twice, in mourning and desperation. The dagger lies lifeless in her hand, unyielding. Regina looks up and sees nothing. Nothing at all.

#### ***

Regina hasn’t seen Robin in three days, not since the night Emma disappeared (the night she was _taken from them_ , Regina mentally corrects herself). She didn’t explain or offer an apology, just lowered her eyes and pulled at the hem of her shirt, clearing her throat lightly, and hoped he would understand. To his credit, he seemed to, even if he couldn’t fully grasp the gravity of the situation, or of what he was agreeing to in that moment. Robin was a good man, a simple man. He saw good and evil as finite, and never entertained anything more complicated than what was in front of his eyes. She closed the door of the mansion and collapsed against it, unmoving for what felt like hours, and likely was, staring into the darkness with nothing to light her way.

She hadn’t needed to ask Mary Margaret to look after Henry that night, nor did Henry ask why Regina needed so desperately to be alone. He was growing up so quickly, understanding concepts Regina was only still learning, and the ache in her heart as he threw his arms around her before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and walking towards the front door felt like a million knives piercing her to the core. Felt like what she imagined the dagger - which she possessed, because it was only right, they'd all surprisingly agreed - would feel like as it sliced through every layer of skin and bone and emptied her entirely. She shook the thought from her head. “We _will_ save her," Henry said simply, and she touched his head, planting a gentle kiss there before letting him go. From the porch, Mary Margaret's eyes met hers. _Bring her back_ , they were saying. _You have to bring her back_.

Now, she sits in her office for the third day in a row, her head battered from fear, sadness, lack of sleep. Two glass bottles - beers Emma had brought around the week before mid-afternoon, just because she felt they needed to “stop being so damn uptight all the time” - sit on the edge of the cherry desk, two old condensation rings staining the wood. She doesn’t have the heart to throw them away, or even to touch them. Her phone buzzes constantly, and is ignored - she doesn't return calls or even check messages. As far as she's concerned, the whole world is already collapsing. What else could go wrong? She stares down at the dagger on the table in front of her - it never leaves her side, of course - and gets lost in nothingness. She’s gotten no further than she had been three days ago. 

Regina hadn’t expected any of this - not to feel so helpless, so hopelessly lost, and she certainly hadn’t expected Emma’s sacrifice for her. _Entirely_ for her. It's ironic, really. One minute Emma was there and it seemed as though everyone’s happy endings might survive intact, and then in a flash, the darkness was enveloping her and Regina was screaming “NO!”, her voice ragged with desperation to just keep Emma safe, to keep her HERE, where she belonged, with Henry and the people who love her. The same thing that made Emma do what she did. Emma was trying to protect her, to preserve her among all others, and the gravity of the gesture was overwhelming. Regina hadn’t expected to feel such devastating guilt. She also hadn't expected to miss her so fucking much. 

Regina has nothing but time on her hands, far too much time to think, but the last thing she wants to think about is why she feels so paralyzed. Emma’s absence could only be likened to missing a limb, and Regina doesn't like it, doesn't understand it and can’t deal with the distraction of thinking about what it all means. Not now, not when Emma is beholden to the darkness and every second she wastes is just another second it could consume her and they could lose her forever. But every time she falters, she thinks of how Emma would touch her shoulder, curl her lip in that half-smile that reassures her and tells her it will be okay. It isn’t okay, certainly not now.

She’s trying to summon the nerve to, well, summon Emma. It isn't like her to hesitate; she always acts without delay, torching everything in her path to get what she wants. Not this time; it wouldn't work anyway. Regina knows she’s somewhere out there, drifting in the black emptiness of her new identity as the Dark One. If Regina can just call her back, can see her and speak to her and touch her - though she tries to ignore that last thought - then they can make a plan to put things right. But so far, Regina can’t make herself say the words. She’s never been a coward, but she feels like one now, so afraid is she of the changes she knows she’ll see in Emma when she returns. Will the light be gone from her eyes? Will she hate Regina for making the decision she did, all for her? Will she remember what they’d built together, for Henry, for each other - the deep and abiding kinship that nothing else could ever come close to touching? Regina can’t bear to know the answer to those questions, in case they're ones she doesn’t want to hear. 

And so she sits, running her fingertip over the smooth, sharp edges of the dagger’s blade softly for hours on end, her mind somewhere else entirely, until the sun is dim in the sky and she heads home. Her heels click too loudly against the hardwood floors of the empty house, and she climbs into bed with all her clothes still on, staring at the ceiling with Emma’s name swirling around her head for hours until finally, just before dawn, she’s pulled into a fitfully brief sleep, her dreams full of black smoke pulling Emma away, away from her forever.


	2. movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Regina stops him short. “Henry, you can’t.. when I call Emma, it needs to be alone. She’s going to be unpredictable, she could be dangerous.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“But she wouldn’t hurt me. I’m her son. And she wouldn’t hurt you because you’re… well, you’re Mom. And you’re the reason she did this, to save you. She wouldn’t undo that.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hearing Henry say the words - that Regina is the reason Emma is now the Dark One - hits her in the gut. It wasn’t what he intended, of course; he was simply trying to prove a point in the hopes it would help him get his own way, but it burns her nonetheless._

On the fifth day, Mary Margaret has had enough of waiting. She’s been trying to give Regina space, time to figure out what in the hell they were going to do next, but Regina won’t answer her phone and hasn’t returned any of her calls. Time is ticking, and every second wasted is a second that Emma is too far away, unreachable in the darkness. She needs to know Emma’s alright, even in the slightest, and Regina is the only one who could have reached her by now. But Regina hasn’t, of course. 

It isn’t that she hasn’t tried. It was a half-hearted attempt, admittedly, her hands trembling on the handle of the dagger as she tried to summon Emma back to Storybrooke, back to herself. But she couldn’t bring herself to say the words necessary that could bring the dagger to life. "Dark One". It felt wrong. She wanted to. She certainly knew she had to. And yet every time she tried, it was Emma’s name she found herself saying time after time, clenching her free hand into a frustrated fist at her side. She was being stupid and she knew it, but she couldn’t push herself further. Not yet. 

Mary Margaret knocks furiously on the front door of the mansion, her knuckles growing raw and sore before Regina finally opens. Her eyes are rimmed with red and her face gaunt - she hasn’t eaten or slept in days. Mary Margaret studies her in silence, taking her in, her heart heavy. Losing a daughter once is cruel, but to lose her twice is a pain too much for any mother to bear. Looking at her, Regina knows how selfish she’s been not to recognize anyone else’s struggle besides her own. Before her, Regina sees flashes of the girl Snow once was, small and afraid but determined. The sight chills her.

Regina opens her mouth as if to speak, but before she can, Mary Margaret moves forward and wraps her arms around the other woman, and for once in her life, Regina doesn’t pull away. Instead, she reciprocates the gesture and they hold on tight to one another for a long moment, as if to anchor themselves to the world as they know it, the world as it’s become.

*** 

That moment of shared grief passes. Regina knows she can’t keep on like she has been, isolated and motionless. There’s too much to be done and she knows that she needs to act. She's actually relieved that Snow has come to shake her from her fugue state, and her presence alone makes Regina’s head feel clearer than it has been since before… since before. Snow scuttles around the kitchen as if it’s her own, pulling a glass from the cabinet and filling it with tepid water from the tap, setting it down in front of Regina. 

“Drink,” Snow says. 

Regina looks at her, eyebrow cocked, ready to make some sarcastic reply, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lifts the glass and drinks the warm liquid down in one shot. She hadn’t realized how parched she was until now. She walks to the kitchen sink and fills another, drinking it down. Anything to avoid the conversation she knows is coming.

“You haven’t called her yet, have you?” 

Mary Margaret is staring at her with an expression she can’t quite read, but it’s something between desperation and fury, with a mix of impatience just below the surface. Regina knows that now Emma is gone, Mary Margaret is looking to her as the hero - a look she’d never expected to see in this lifetime or any other, and certainly not from Snow White. She doesn’t think she can live up to it, but this is no time for self-doubt. 

“I’ve tried, but — “ 

Snow cuts her off immediately. “You have to find her, Regina. Emma is out there and she’s probably scared and we have to save her, and you —“

“I know. I know.” And Regina does know, and she’ll do it. She’ll get Emma back to exactly who she once was if it’s the last thing she does in this life. She’ll banish the darkness somehow, store it… somewhere that isn’t inside Emma Swan. She’s just been trying to gather up the courage. _Christ, Regina, what’s gotten into you?_ she thinks to herself often these last few days. _When have you ever lacked courage?_

“Why did she do it?” Regina asks Mary Margaret, looking up suddenly. "I know your daughter has a self-destructive streak, but this is a whole other level. Why?" She's being flippant, but it’s the question that’s been plaguing her since that night, when she was being snuffed out, the world blackening around her bit by bit until Emma stepped in and took her place. Until Emma took on the darkness to let Regina keep the light she’d only so recently started earning back. She can’t get the picture out of her mind, the look in Emma’s eyes as they stared into her own, then through them, then disappeared completely. 

Mary Margaret doesn’t know how to answer. She starts and stops a few times, before saying simply, “She believes in you.”

Regina clears her throat. A thick lump has risen through her chest and into her throat at those words, and she’s not sure when she became so sentimental, why Emma’s absence was affecting her as deeply as it clearly was. Emma believes in her, and that belief cost her everything. 

"I mean, we all do now,” Snow continues, breaking her out of her reverie. “We’ve seen your goodness. How far you’ve come. But no one believes in you more than Emma does. That’s why we’ve got to believe in her, now. She’s out there and we’ve got to bring her back.” 

“Of course I believe in her!" Regina replies, a tad too harshly. She softens her voice again. "I promise you I will. I just —“ 

“Regina, I know you’re scared. I know that this time last week, everything seemed like maybe it was finally going to settle down, that happy endings weren’t out of the question for any of us. But Emma is my daughter. She is Henry’s mother. She’s your…” 

Regina’s breath hitches, waiting for Snow to complete her sentence. 

“She cares so much about you, Regina. And I know you care about her. You worked so hard to keep her on the right path, to make sure she didn’t turn dark when she could have, and you don’t know how grateful I am. But now she needs you again. We’ll all do everything we can. Henry has been spending every spare second at the library with Belle and her books, Hook is walking around like a wounded puppy, and I’m… well, I’m here. But it’s you that has to do this, Regina. It’s you that holds the power, I just know it.” 

“What makes you so certain?” 

It’s an honest question, one Regina doesn’t know the answer to herself, and yet she knows what Mary Margaret is saying is the truth. She feels it in the bones of her. It goes beyond guilt, beyond responsibility, into something greater that’s beyond magic, but she can’t put her finger on it. 

Mary Margaret doesn’t answer. Instead, she places her hand on top of Regina’s and simply says, “Find her,” before rising and walking towards the front door. 

When she opens it, Henry is there, on his way in. Regina hasn’t seen him since that night, and she doesn’t know how much Snow or anyone else has told him. Knowing Henry, he knows everything, and he’ll have brought at least a dozen ideas with him for how to make it all right. 

Snow closes the door behind her on the way out and Henry runs to Regina’s arms, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding on tight. Regina returns his embrace, reveling in the warmth and certainty of him. Here he is, her son - _our_ son, Emma always corrected her, and she was right - and he’s alive and well and a living promise that she made to the world to do what was right. It had taken her a while to commit herself to the vow, but now that she has, she’d be damned if she’d ever give it up. 

***

Sitting across from one another at the dinner table that night, Regina is eating her first meal in days, at Henry’s insistence, and they haven’t talked about Emma yet, but she knows it’s coming. Henry is biding his time, a hint of hope visible in his eyes that she’s learned to recognize immediately. 

“I’ve thought of a name,” he says finally, sticking his fork into a Brussels sprout on his plate. The silverware scrapes against the porcelain plate and he winces for a moment at the screeching sound. 

“A name?”

“For our mission to save Mom,” of course. He’s smiling his most convincing smile, trying to prove to Regina that he’s big and brave, that none of this phases him at all, that he’s certain and strong in the midst of chaos. It tears at Regina’s heart. 

Regina clears her throat. “All right, then,” she says, mustering her best sense of enthusiasm. “What is it, then?” 

“Operation Mom-Goose. Get it?” He waits open-mouthed for her response. 

Regina lets out a genuine laugh - the first in God knows how long. It’s so simple, so silly, and so Henry. “Operation Mom-Goose,” she repeats, the hint of a smile playing on the edge of her lips at the obviousness of it. 

She imagines the way Emma would playfully roll her eyes before saying something like, “Nice one, kid!” and ruffle his hair. But Emma is not here, and the thought is sobering. “I like it,” she says to Henry, trying her best to retain the slightest sense of levity. 

Henry looks satisfied, but she can feel the anxiety just beneath the surface. She wants to hold him to her, to promise that she’ll find Emma, she’ll bring her back, she’ll restore the light. But of all the times she’s let Henry down in his life, she can’t do it now. Not with this one. If she failed, he would never recover, that much Regina’s sure of. Would she recover herself? She’s not so certain about that. 

“When are you gonna do it?” he asks bluntly a moment later. 

Regina isn’t expecting it, and he notices. 

“You have to call her, right? We have to at least find her, to see where she is. Then we can figure out how bad it is and then —“ 

She cuts him off before he can finish. “It’s complicated, Henry. Emma is out there, yes, but we don’t know —“ 

“Mom,” Henry says in such a stern voice that she suddenly sees him as the young man he’s becoming. She can no longer placate him; she could never placate him, but now there’s nothing she can keep from him in good conscience. Nothing he wouldn’t figure out in the end, anyway. He was too clever for his own good, this boy. 

“You have the dagger, so you can call her. And as long as you have it, she can’t hurt us. She can’t hurt anyone if you tell her not to, right?” 

“Technically, yes,” Regina answers, her tone measured. “At least temporarily."

“So what are you afraid of? I’ve never seen you like this in my whole life, Mom. We can do this, I know it.” 

Regina stops him short. “Henry, you can’t.. when I call Emma, it needs to be alone. She’s going to be unpredictable, she could be dangerous.” 

“But she wouldn’t hurt me. I’m her son. And she wouldn’t hurt you because you’re… well, you’re Mom. And you’re the reason she did this, to save you. She wouldn’t undo that.” 

Hearing Henry say the words - that Regina is the reason Emma is now the Dark One - hits her in the gut. It wasn’t what he intended, of course; he was simply trying to prove a point in the hopes it would help him get his own way, but it burns her nonetheless. 

The truth? Emma would never want Henry to see her like this… like she is now, enveloped in darkness, likely out of control. It’s too early on, there are too many variables. But the way Henry is looking at her, she knows she can’t protect him from the truth. Henry needs to see Emma, needs to look in her eyes to remind her of who she is deep down. Maybe together, they’ll stand a better chance of keeping the light alive until they can figure out a better plan. 

There is no time like the present, and Regina rises from her seat and walks to the other side of the table, placing her palm against Henry’s cheek for a moment as he leans into her side. 

“Let’s go find Emma,” she says, steeling her nerves. 

Henry rises from the dining room chair and takes Regina’s hand, and together they walk towards the study where the dagger awaits.


	3. forward motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Regina doesn’t know what time it is. The last time she checked, it was after midnight, but who knows how long ago that was now. She has been reading for hours, her head buried in a book Belle sent Henry home with that day. It was full of the Dark One’s history and creation, terrible tales of destruction and evil that told her nothing of use. She yawns, rubbing her eyes, the effects of lost sleep taking their toll._
> 
> _“The kid was right.”_
> 
> _Regina’s head snaps up. She hears but doesn’t see her, can’t place her despite frantic searching. She would know that voice anywhere on earth. “Emma? Emma, where are you?” she calls, panic evident in every syllable._
> 
> _And suddenly there she is: The Dark One, tall and lean, impossible blond locks falling in every direction. She stands hunched, unwilling to make eye contact, shifting her weight between her feet with simultaneous impatience and power._

Something is wrong. Three times Regina and Henry summon the Dark One, and three times they receive no reply. The dagger remains lifeless, without spark, and Emma is nowhere to be found. Their first call is from Regina’s office, the second Henry’s bedroom, the third in the entryway in front of the staircase. Location makes no difference, yields no better results, but neither are willing to accept it.

Together, they scour every inch of the house, searching closets and behind furniture, in cupboards and crawlspaces, all improbable points. They are both aware that magic is an imperfect science, especially when it’s so new, and neither of them are ready to admit defeat so early on. With the turn of every corridor and sliding open of every door, Regina feels within herself something for which she's nearly certain there is no word, at least in any language she knows - a mix of dread and fear, all finished off with a great swathe of hope. But Emma is nowhere.

“Anything?” she shouts from the downstairs bathroom.

Henry is in the attic, peering behind boxes, as if Emma might jump out from behind one of the tall wooden pillars and reveal herself at any second.

“Nope!” he responds simply. Regina can hear his shoes hitting the stairs as head heads back down to her.

“Hey Mom?” Henry calls, his voice growing closer. When he meets her back in her office, his face is crestfallen, though he quickly tries to hide it.

“What is it, Henry? Are you all right?” She moves to him, feeling protective, though over what she’s not sure.

“I don’t understand,” he says. "Doesn’t she… doesn’t Emma _have_ to come? Isn’t that, like, the rule? We have the dagger.” His nose scrunches with puzzlement, a habit he seems to have inherited from the very woman they can’t seem to locate.

“Yes, she does,” Regina sighs, just as confused, not to mention extremely frustrated. “But it’s complicated. It’s still new. Maybe Emma doesn’t know how to answer us. Maybe she’s —“

“Maybe she doesn’t want to see me,” Henry blurts out. There’s no emotion in the way he says this, only simple fact, a detached logic that Henry, despite barely being a teenager, seems to have already mastered.

Regina sighs, shaking her head slightly. “Henry, I assure you, Emma loves you very, very much.”

“I know,” he replies, his tone as measured and unreadable as before. “That’s why she wouldn’t want to see me. She’s the Dark One now, Mom. But she’s still the Savior somewhere in there, and she’d want to save me from having to see her… like that. It’s what she does, the whole 'putting others before herself' thing.”

It's a veiled statement, and Regina doesn't know what emotion it's meant to evoke, but she tries to shake the thought from her head. It _does_ sound like the Emma she knows, so much so that Henry’s pointed observation makes her laugh once, quickly, a low guffaw that hurts as much as it momentarily lightens her spirits. She touches the top of Henry’s head, pulling him to her tightly and resting her chin on his head. She doesn’t know what comfort she can offer, but Henry expects none.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he says when Regina lets go. He looks brave and certain, and she’s so proud to be his mother. She knows Emma would feel the same, seeing him like this, so grown up.

She nods once in agreement, smiling softly at him, and Henry smiles back before padding out of her office and up the stairs to his room. Regina walks to her desk and pulls out the chair, dropping down in exasperation, the dagger laid before her, offering nothing.

***

Regina doesn’t know what time it is. The last time she checked, it was after midnight, but who knows how long ago that was now. She has been reading for hours, her head buried in a book Belle sent Henry home with that day. It was full of the Dark One’s history and creation, terrible tales of destruction and evil that told her nothing of use. She yawns, rubbing her eyes, the effects of lost sleep taking their toll.

“The kid was right.”

Regina’s head snaps up. She hears but doesn’t see her, can’t place her despite frantic searching. She would know that voice anywhere on earth. “Emma? Emma, where are you?” she calls, panic evident in every syllable.

And suddenly there she is: The Dark One, tall and lean, impossible blond locks falling in every direction. She stands hunched, unwilling to make eye contact, shifting her weight between her feet with simultaneous impatience and power. 

Regina studies her, mouth agape. In another land, Emma would have changed, her skin a sickly, scaly yellow, her eyes devoid of such spectacular blue. Here, however, there was nothing different, and had she not been there and seen the darkness anchor itself in Emma right in front of her face, Regina wouldn’t believe it. Not in those first moments. 

She stands and walks around her desk to where Emma waits, the ivory sleeves of her sweater frayed and muddy. There are tears in her jeans, a dark patch of what Regina is terrified to think is blood splattered along the length of her boot. Regina doesn't know where Emma's been, what she's been doing in the days between, but she can't bring herself to ask. Without thinking, Regina reaches for her.

Emma jerks away, looking up for the first time. “Don’t,” she says plainly, shaking her shoulders awkwardly. “I can’t.” Her gaze catches Regina’s and holds it, a spark erupting and then quickly dying, and they let silence fill the room. The rejection hits Regina in the center of her chest, and her breath hitches in her lungs, unable to be released. Emma’s look contains an apology, that she can see, along with enough fire to burn this town to the ground.

It’s the eyes that have changed, Regina realizes, refusing to look away. Emma’s are still blue, but an iciness has started to crack there, freezing out the warmth Regina knew well and had hoped to know better. _Where had Emma been? How far had the darkness gone inside her? Was she in pain?_ But she simply says her name.

“Emma.”

“I couldn’t let Henry see… this. Not yet. I’m not… I haven’t quite figured it out. How to control it. It’s… how is he?”

Regina is dumbfounded at the regularity of the conversation, though she knows it’s simply a way to avoid the elephant in the room. “He misses you,” she replies without hesitance. She doesn’t say the rest aloud: _I miss you, too._ There’s no place for it here.

Emma softens, the corners of her mouth quivering downwards. Suddenly she winces, grabbing her head, and Regina catches her as her knees weaken. This time, Emma doesn’t push her away. The way Regina sets her down on the couch with such tenderness, such concern, is almost too much to bear and it only makes the pounding in Emma’s head worse. Emma almost wishes for the early days, the cruel Regina that would burn her to dust on the spot. It would certainly be easier than this. Regina stands above her, watching her intently.

“Darkness and light aren’t really a good match, eh?” Emma finally says when it passes, choking out a wry laugh.

“The light will win,” Regina replies, crouching down in front of her. “The Savior taught me that one.”

“When did you go so soft, Regina? It’s kinda weirding me out, to be honest.”

“I’ve been spending too much time with your mother,” Regina quips back. The back and forth is so natural, almost like nothing has ever happened, but so much has and they both know they will only get these few seconds to ignore it, so they greedily grab at as much as they can get.

“How are they? My parents?” Emma’s bottom lip trembles slightly, and she fights back another wave of pain that courses through her cerebrum.

“Worried about you. We’re all worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need to be. I can handle this my —“

Regina places her hand over Emma’s, quieting her before she can finish her statement. Emma recoils, pulling her hand from Regina’s touch as if she was on fire, and Regina swallows hard.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says so quietly that Regina nearly doesn’t hear. “It’s this… thing. I can’t… It isn't you,” she trails off.

Regina steels her resolve, waving her hands in a small glow of magic, and tries again, enveloping Emma’s hand in both of her own and holding it there. This time, the sharp pain doesn’t come, only a dull ache that dissipates slowly, softly, flowing out through the tips of her fingers and passing into Regina, who winces and goes slack-jawed with pain. For a moment, she feels nothing but absolute emptiness, and the relief is overwhelming. Regina has taken the pain for herself, shouldered it to give her even the smallest respite.

Is this what they've become? Neither woman would ever have expected it those few years ago and now the exchange seemed natural. Pain, sadness, joy: together they shared everything, moving it between themselves effortlessly and without hope or expectation of payback. But there is no joy here, not now, only the small comfort that they aren't yet lost to one another entirely. 

Emma looks at Regina now, searching her gaze for an answer to questions she’s never even asked. Regina has questions of her own, mainly: _Do you regret it? How can I save you? Do you know how much I wish you were still here?_ She asks none of them aloud, and instead they stare quietly at one another, Regina crouched on the floor in front of Emma, their hands clasped, for what feels like an eternity but in reality is likely a minute, maybe two.

The Darkness passes through Emma’s eyes once, then again, and Regina watches her brave the storm, clenching her jaw and bowing her head, a spark shimmering across her irises before being snuffed out for now, until the next one hits. When this happens, Emma’s hand grips hers tighter before letting go entirely in a flurry of electric shock.

Emma grunts, unsure which version of herself has won this time. Regina is terrified, but she moves closer again anyway with a gentleness that makes the pain start again. What has Emma done to herself? What have they done to each other?

**Author's Note:**

> A little something that's been swirling around my head after 4B ended. I'm also on Tumblr now - swanqueensecret.tumblr.com if that's something you're into. I'll occasionally post teasers there and will announce when the next chapters go up.


End file.
